The ground continues to move without abating. People freeze in panic not daring to believe the worst. They wait assured that it would abate. Some people slowly drift out and make their way out of the shoppingcomplex, but many stay put or hide under tables or doorways or other sturdy cover. The remaining people simply glance at each other in worry but not fear. On the streets, some cars continue to drive while others stop and pull over. Nevertheless, most if not all Angelenos refuse to think that this shaking is the advent of more to come despite the intense shaking that makes buildings seem as if they are made of crafted sticks. That is until a blood curdling scream shout and people notice potchmarks of cracks becoming pot holes and then more. These cracks inadvertently make drivers swerve. Some crash into each other or others. Many drivers who have stopped or moved to open spaces look at these incidents with fright. At the farmer'smarket, people run out. Some throw away their bags. Some people like the old couple of the honey stall rush into their vehicles seeing the growing stampede of people. At the shopping center, people unfreeze and rush out pushing and shoving until the point many are thrown onto the floor, and, as a result, are stepped on. Cries of agony sweep through The Grove. Other areas were calmer. At the kid's concert, the event director steps out to calm the crowd and many assistants along with security were ordered to usher everyone out in single file lines for their safety The parents and other adults in panic look at their children and grit their teeth or calm down. People in their homes find cover after looking at the news or head to an open space. News headlines highlight the faults that are ahaking and slowly growing in magnitude: Newport Inglewood fault, Santa Monica fault, Hollywood fault... The worst is yet to come as the coast is overshadowed by a rising tsunami. In the panic and despair, no one notices the disappearance of thousands of people. At most it is a moment, but for Angelenos, this shake is a lifetime. After the catastrophe, people slowly wander to look for or call for friends and relatives. Cries of grievance and despair hang over like smog in the early morning of Los Angeles.
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In a great hall dimly lit up by torches glowing like gems, thousands of people are strewn over the hall along with familiar debris. People lay on top of debris resembling a mixture of junkyard and demolition sight. To this situation, slowly, they wake up. Some earlier than others. The hall is too dim to see the people more than six feet away from each other. Even more so hard to distinguish the debris unless they are under the debris. Towards the center of this congregation of people, a group of men in black surround a youth in a slim fitted burgundy suit who lays on a flat debris. Her deep dark brown braid tussled and lay across her face in disarray. A dark spot under her between her cheek and chin slowly grows larger by the second. She is none other than Madrigal. She gasps and opens her eyes in a flurry trying to make out their situation only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. Being unable to take stock of her situation, the bout of pain throbbing throughout her aching body makes her collapse. Her thick and slender eyebrows furrow as she groans in pain. Biting her lower pink and brown thin lip to stop herself from groaning, she steadily raises her trembling right hand. She yanks the brooch holding her collar and undoes her black collar and oxford blue tie with her shapely and strong fingers. Pulling her tie away from herself in a frustrating manner, she gasps for breath. The blood flows down her throat in a moment of carelessness, and she chokes. She hurriedly turns on her right side and spits out as much blood as she can. Rustling noises come from around her in respond to her coughs, so she muffles her coughs with her right palm. Aware of who surrounds her, she breathes deeply to calm herself. In the meantime, her vision slowly focuses and the buzz in her slender oval ears abate. Her thick but short eyelashes flutter as her deep earthy brown eyes focus on who is around her. Warm, callused, and rough hands pick her up gently, these hands belong to the solemn man. Madrigal pats his arm firmly motioning for the man to leave her on the floor. He does as she instructs and stands up in a hurry to look for someone. As he stands up, his suit outlines his muscular body. His icy blue pastel eyes shift a bit frantically. His wrinkles accentuate the deep worry he has for the youth. A man, shorter by a head, pats the solemn man's dirty blond hair with many streaks of white. This man gently rebukes him, "you monkey eared oaf. stop panicking and take inventory of the others." The solemn returns to his senses. He goes to do a head count of his brothers and sisters. Meanwhile, the short man who acted as their driver adjusts his charcoal newsboy ivy cabbie hat. With a grunt, he limps over to Madrigal who extends her hand to give him her tie. He swats the hand away, responding in a frustrating tone to her questioning look, "We 'ave 'em first A kit." He squats down and adjusts himself in a sitting position. Soon the solemn man returns and gives the short cabbie man the first aid kit. The cabbie man brushes through his dark slightly grey haired bush of a beard in an attempt to calm down his boiling and complex emotions. Madrigal taps his knee in Morse code. He looks at her with his beady eyes that glint as if wishing to give her a beating. He huffs and says, "you come first. My body just has slight bruises." She taps his knee again. He admonishes her, "if you know you're sorry, you shouldn't 'ave dun dat." Madrigal taps again. He chokes at her request and sighs. He calls out to the solemn man by pulling a young brother over and tapping out the name of the solemn man. Their cautioness part of their deeply rooted habits that are necessary in this situation.
The cabbie man has already taken off Madrigal's blazer and dress shirt leaving her with a cotton black tanktop. He stretches her left arm and pulls and pushes her shoulder back in place. This makes Madrigal gasp and slightly teary. She looks at the cabbie man with a death glare startling the cabbie man, but he soon pats her left shoulder, " you did dis ta yursef not me." Madrigal bites her lower lip to muffle the pain coming from her left shoulder. The cabbie man has already proceeded to put balm on the bruises and gives her anti inflammatory drugs and drugs to stop internal bleeding to dry swallow. He, then, proceeds to give her pain relief despite some hesitation. He takes out a stethoscope from his deep coat pocket and checks her breathing from her back. He furrows his bushy eyebrows. He deeply sighs, and rummages through the kit to finally pull out an inhaler. He quickly helps Madrigal use the inhaler. He remarks, "dis all I can do fur now." Madrigal slightly nods. The solemn man soon returns and kneels down next to the cabbie man. He reports the status of the other members, "1 heavily injured, the rest varying degrees of injuries." Madrigal nods and hoarsely asks, "who?"
The solemn man is hesitant to say who is heavily injured. He taps out a name on her palm. Madrigal's eyebrows scrunch making her eyes look deeper. She looks over at the cabbie man, "treat yourself first. give instructions to the others with more energy to help-" She is interrupted by a death grip on her left shoulder that makes her whine in pain. Then a teary, desperate voice is heard on her left, "DON'T LEAVE ME!!" Infuriated both the cabbie man and solemn man smack that individual. Madrigal gasps for breath. The cabbie man hurries to stabilize her condition. The baby faced you quickly crawls to Madrigal. He apologizes repeatedly and with a bit of delight after seeing Madrigal, "sorry, sorry, sorry..." His honey colored eyes shine as water slowly covers its surface. He blinks away the tears. After a while, Madrigal finally regains a bit of clarity. She sweeps her gaze to the baby face youth who has a silly grin on his face. Unable to speak, she writes out her intentions on his palm, but soon she freezes as her hand clasps a playing card that came out of nowhere. She regains her wits about her. No one notices this fleeting behavior. The baby face youth prances over to carry out orders. Glancing over at the solemn man, Madrigal grabs one of his hands and prods his hand to look for a softer part in his palm. She, then, taps out her orders. The solemn man stands up. His face more serious to the point that it is almost freezing. He bows to Madrigal and proceeds to carry out her orders. Madrigal then beckons the cabbie man. She writes out one word. A ripple then a tug as if something is being pulled out of her then connecting. She follows this connection that unexpectedly links her to the cabbie man. With this link, she attempts to communicate with him. The cabbie man looks at her incredulously. She holds him down and shakes her head to keep calm. The cabbie man gradually accepts this alien connection and asks with great concern through it, "what is 'dis? Were ar we?"
She soothes his side of the link sending over her intention, "let me investigate." She shows him the playing card and turns it over. A joker is displayed. She turns it over again. Where the joker used to be, the image of the joker ripples.